


Growing Pains

by kakashi_mole



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, Growing Up, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Marijuana, Multi, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashi_mole/pseuds/kakashi_mole
Summary: Number Five remembers his first kiss
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone, Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 12
Kudos: 162





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Season Two. A Five-centric fic. Some teenagers get growing pains, some don’t, but the last “cycles” of pain usually occur around age 13.

Five felt the old familiar ache the moment they stepped into the dingy motel room. He and his family had rented out two motel rooms for the night and were now conversing about the next step to take in regards to ‘The Sparrow Academy.’ 

Five was standing with his arms crossed when he felt a twinge of pain in his legs, and then he sat down on the bed, next to Klaus who was sprawled out on his side, his head cradled in his hand. 

“I can’t believe we’re orphans again,” Klaus said. 

“We aren’t orphans,” Luther responded. “We were never orphans.” 

“We’re just outsiders to our own home,” Diego said. He sidestepped Luther and Allison and went into the bathroom, locking the door. 

“Isn’t this a good thing?” Vanya piped up. She looked at each of her siblings, then continued. “All of us have imagined a life without Dad. Now he has his own family, and we have each other.” 

Everyone was silent for a moment. Diego came out of the bathroom, his combat gear slung over his shoulder. 

“It’s not that simple,” Five said. “Something’s not right with this timeline, and I can’t be the only one who thinks something’s not right with Dad’s ‘new’ family.” 

Klaus picked at a loose string on the bedsheets, adding, “And Ben is there…” 

“ _That_ asshole,” Diego said, stacking his knives onto the dresser next to the TV, “is not the Ben we knew.” 

“I don’t think that Reginald is the one we knew either,” Five said. “He’s changed.” 

“What? You think he won Dad of the Year in this timeline?” Allison asked, her tone full of bitterness. 

“No,” Five said. He looked at his hands, the fingers interlaced. “He’s up to something. They all are.” 

Diego opened his mouth but Five pointed at him, blurting, “And I’m _not_ being paranoid about it.” 

“You know, alot of this could have been avoided years ago if someone wasn’t being so selfish.” 

Five’s eyes darkened. 

“Diego, don’t,” Allison said. 

“No, I want to hear what he has to say. In fact—“ Five stood up, the ache in his body causing him to sway on his feet. “I want to hear what everyone has to say about it.” 

Vanya stood up, her voice shaking. 

“The apocalypse didn’t start because Five ran away.” 

A wet sheen of tears formed in her eyes. 

“It’s _always_ been my fault.” 

The siblings became uneasy, shuffling on their feet, looking down at the ground. Klaus yanked the loose string out of the bedsheet. 

Diego and Five stared each other down, tension rising in the air as they were on the cusp of a full blown argument. 

“Listen,” Luther interjected. “We have been through alot these past few days. We’re all exhausted. We’re all liable to say things we don’t really mean.” 

“He’s right,” Allison said. “We need a good night’s sleep.” 

Diego’s hands were still balled into fists, glowering down at Five as Five craned his neck to look up at his brother. 

Luther put a hand on Diego’s shoulder. 

“Save it for the morning,” he insisted. 

Diego relented. 

“Fine.” He gathered his knives and combat gear in his arms. 

“You can start your investigation on Hargreeves. But I’m looking for Lila.” 

“Trust me compadre— she’ll come to us,” Klaus said. “Craziness follows this family like beetles to a heaping dung pile.” 

Allison spoke up. 

“Tomorrow I’m going to find Claire. We have people we care about waiting for us—” 

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Five interrupted. He sat back down, his shoulders slouching forward as he rested his elbows on his knees. 

He looked up, his troubled gaze going to each of his siblings. 

“This timeline is drastically altered from the one we knew. The people you love might not even exist anymore.” 

Silence filled the room. 

Vanya’s head lifted, concern etched in her expression as she asked, “Did anyone notice Mom was missing at the mansion?” 

Diego sighed, a bitter chuckle escaping his throat as he went outside. His body could be seen going into the room next door. 

Luther said his goodbye, then followed his brother to the room next door, leaving Vanya, Allison, Five, and Klaus. 

Klaus pointed behind him towards the parking lot. A stylish 1960 black Chrysler Imperial blended in with the cover of night, an anachronistic artifact of time standing out amongst the other cars. 

“Do you think Dad’s going to notice we stole his car?” 

——————————— 

The sound of rain hit the motel room window. The sound of rain, combined with complete and total exhaustion, had already lulled his siblings to sleep, but Five was still awake. From between the window curtains he watched the rivulets of rain flow down the glass. The streetlight outside illuminated the darkness enough to see, but it made him feel eerily and uncomfortably alone. Just him and the rain and the fluorescent light awake in the middle of the night. 

He had been looking forward to finally getting some shut-eye, but the ache in his legs had worsened. Now it was in his arms and shoulders. 

When they had said their goodnight’s— Vanya and Allison sharing a bed while Five kicked off his shoes to sleep next to Klaus— he was sure that he would be able to relax enough to sleep. The lamp had been turned off, Five closed his eyes, and meditated on the feeling that things were decently okay— he was with his family. The timeline was fucked up, but his family was with him, safe and sound. Ben— no, he couldn’t think about Ben, it would only keep him up— yes, the timeline was erratic, certainly there was an equation that could explain— no, he refused to think about equations lest his mind start racing with different probabilities and outcomes. 

Five took a deep breath, settled into the bed with his hands folded atop his stomach, and thought, ‘ _My family is with me. It’s going to be okay_ ’. He started to disappear into the dreamless dark of sleep when he suddenly woke up, a sharp intake of breath shocking him back to consciousness. The pain in his legs and arms burned as red as the digital clock on the nightstand, shining the time as 1:45 in the morning. 

He remembered this feeling, this sensation that something was gnawing at him from the inside out. It plagued him for nights on end when he was alone in that apocalyptic wasteland. All he got from adolescent growing pains was a few inches taller. Not that he kept track of his height during the apocalypse. Survival was all that mattered. He was sure if he had grown up with his brothers they would be competing over who would be the tallest by the end of puberty. 

In the loneliness, there was no one to compare his growth to, no brother, no sister. The only thing he paid attention to in terms of appearance was the way his shadow stretched across the ground. His shadow kept him company as he walked on, mile after mile, endlessly into the insurmountable dust. 

In a way, it was funny, having to do this all over again. Some sort of cosmic joke, making his body a Sisyphean story, made to go through a second puberty while his mind had already accepted his old age with one foot in the grave. 

He flinched at the ache shooting up his legs. 

_Goddamnit_ , he thought. 

He rolled over on his side, staring at the bed where Vanya and Allison slept. He tried to gauge how bad the pain was, felt it come in waves, and he narrowed his eyes, calculating his next move. 

Klaus mumbled something in his sleep, turning over and flopping his arm over Five. Five scoffed under his breath, brushing Klaus’s hand off him before lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. 

He wanted to sleep so badly, but as he felt the growing pains gnaw at him, demanding his attention, he realized he couldn’t. 

Unable to ignore it, Five stood up. He was about to warp outside the motel room but stopped when he noticed Klaus’s overcoat bundled up in the armchair. 

Five mulled it over in his head before digging through the coat’s pockets. He pulled out an orange prescription bottle, hearing the clink of pills inside. Five stepped into the slit of light coming through the curtains, read the label, then popped the cap open, shaking two white pills into his hand. He stuffed the pills into his pocket, returned the bottle to Klaus’s coat, then jumped himself out of the room and into the dark of night. 

Vanya lifted her head from the pillow, unsure if the sound of Five’s teleportation was from a dream or not. 

——————————— 

There was a chill to the April night air. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Five felt goosebumps rise on his exposed legs, and he crossed his arms over his chest, slouching forward as he walked briskly along the sidewalk. He followed the streetlights towards the sparse outcropping of buildings, taking note of the 24/7 convenience store that had its lights on. 

All the former aches and pains of old age had been replaced by this pubescent ache, a teenaged reminder of all those lonely nights. He would spend the day surviving, gathering materials, making tools. Walking for miles until his feet bled, eventually becoming calloused as time went on. He could handle the days because he spent them working, balancing the task of survival with the work of figuring out the equation to get back to the right time and place. Work preoccupied him during the day, but it was the night he hated most. At night, when he was going through the growing pains for the first time, he would think about the past. About his family, about his childhood. Alone in the dark, he laid next to the fire he had built, curling himself into a ball to conserve body heat. 

He closed his eyes, the orange glow of the fire warming his face, and remembered: the smell of blueberry pancakes on Saturday morning when Grace was cooking, the way the stairs creaked when he and his siblings raced each other up and down, the sound of Vanya’s violin changing pitch behind her closed bedroom door. He remembered climbing on Luther’s shoulders to reach a book on the top shelf in the library, he remembered arguing with Allison over something stupid, some disagreement over a history fact about some long-ago dead general in a war neither of them cared that much about, except they were both determined to be right, yelling at one another until they were at the point of tears. He remembered going to the carnival, winning a stuffed bear thanks to Diego at a ring toss game. He remembered sneaking out of the mansion at night, waltzing through the city streets with his siblings as if they owned the place. He remembered breaking into the diner after closing hour. He’d teleport into the building and unlock the door for his siblings. They laughed over donuts, giddy from the caffeinated coffee, something they were never allowed in the mansion because caffeine was proven to ‘ rot the minds of young children.’ Klaus went overboard with the sugar; Ben opted for the plain donuts. Vanya constantly checked out the window, keeping watch in case they were caught. 

Lying there on the cold ground, amidst the city ruins, Five would grapple for any memory to come forth, as long as it took him back home. 

His thoughts came in images: the way the evening light shone in the corridor as he walked towards Vanya’s room, the sight of her with the violin tucked under her chin. 

The journal he was never supposed to read. The look of betrayal on her face when she found out. 

Five averted his gaze from the fire to look up at the night sky, but the stars were hidden behind the layer of dust which now encased the Earth. 

Alone, he heard the voice of Reginald Hargreeves reminding him of his failure. The words, ‘ _I told you so_ ’ repeated until it wore him down so painfully that Five realized it was an unavoidable truth. Lying on the ground, shivering in the cold, he stared into the fire, and said it out loud, 

“Told you so.” 

That was the first time he allowed himself to cry to sleep. 

Dolores ever-present beside him, Five wheeled his red wagon through the desolate landscape. He spent those days scavenging, searching for life, or at the very least, signs of life now lost. He found countless bodies, some decayed beyond recognition, others preserved under the dust like the corpses of Pompeii. He remembered sitting in the library, Vanya by his side, looking at those pictures in one of Hargreeves’s many encyclopedias, a volume dedicated to the complete history of ancient Rome. He remembered the look of despair on Vanya’s face as he turned the page, revealing the pictures of bodies like paper-mâché preserved in the aftermath of Pompeii’s destruction. The way she gasped and averted her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder. 

It was during one of his excursions that he found a library. His stomach growled— he knew he should devote his energy to finding food— but curiosity overtook him. He left Dolores and the wagon, climbed over broken rubble and fallen debris, and entered the darkened space. Books lay in tatters at his feet. With each step he took, dust swirled in the few gaps of light that shone into the broken building. He roamed the aisles, glancing at the spines of books, reminiscing about the hours he used to spend in libraries, the calmness of those hours reading, how he used to find serenity in solitude. 

He nearly missed it. His eyes swept over the name ‘Vanya’, and immediately he stopped in his tracks, rushing to push the goggles off his face. The name “Vanya Hargreeves” was printed on the spine of a book. His hands sprung out as he pulled it off the shelf, flipping it front and back to see its title, _Extra Ordinary_ , and the author’s picture. He felt the breath knocked out of him. It was her. She was older. She seemed tired, and there was a sadness to her eyes that he had seen before, an uneasiness which made him unable to move. 

In a rush, with the book pressed close to his chest, Five stepped over debris to find a place where the light came through. He came to a pillar, turned, and sat with his back to it. His heart was racing as he flipped through the book, then telling himself to calm down, he opened the book to page one. He took a deep breath, and began reading. 

——————————— 

Five entered the 24/7 convenience store, giving a nod of his head to the man behind the counter. The man’s eyes looked up from his newspaper, trailing the kid as he went down the aisle. 

His path was headed directly for the alcohol in the back refrigerator, but he hesitated, his mouth pursed as he realized he didn’t have any money, and another crucial factor was that he looked like a thirteen year old boy in catholic school shorts. He closed his eyes, sighed, then slowly peeked over his shoulder. The man behind the counter had returned his attention to the newspaper. 

Five rolled his shoulders, his stride determined as he opened the refrigerator door, grabbed a 40oz, then turned out of sight behind a rack of potato chips. Before he could hear the man yell at him, demanding to know where he was going, Five jumped out of the store in a blue flash, catching himself in the dark alley by the dumpsters. 

He took to the sidewalk, following the path back to the motel. Unscrewing the cap of the beer, he took the painkillers from his pocket, chucking them into his mouth. The beer sloshed, spilling onto his arm as he knocked back a swig and swallowed. The long walk to the store hadn’t done much to improve the ache in his legs. A car drove past, slowing down to honk as the driver noticed the 40oz of beer in his hands. Five gave the driver a middle finger as the car sped off. 

He tossed back another gulp of beer, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve. _Maybe the painkillers and the beer are overkill_ , he thought, but he was so tired and he just wanted some sleep, even if it was drug-induced. 

Taking Klaus’s pills like that reminded him of the time his brother showed him how to roll a joint, much to his chagrin. He only wanted to borrow Klaus’s headphones when he walked into his brother’s room to find him sprinkling weed onto thin cigarette papers. 

“You don’t want to put too much. Think of it as a burrito. A tortilla can only hold so much, ya know?” 

The smell was thick as Klaus lit the joint and puffed at it. He extended a hand, offering the joint to his brother. 

“C’mon Fiiive,” the teenager had crooned, “we won’t get caught. The ye olde Master of the House isn’t even here right now.” Five eyed the joint, then Klaus. 

“If you tell him I smoked this, I promise I will kill you.” 

“You mean tell him that you know how to be cool as hell?” Klaus laughed. 

Five rolled his eyes, plucking the joint from Klaus as he took in a small inhale of smoke. He coughed against it, making Klaus laugh again. 

It wasn’t long until they were sprawled on Klaus’s bed, listening to a Hall & Oates album on the old record player Klaus had “borrowed” from Luther’s room. Their stoned talk mingled as they watched the late afternoon sun cast gold bars on the bedroom wall. 

Klaus had tears in his eyes from laughing, the hand holding the joint gesturing in the air, causing smoke to swirl above them. He continued, 

“No, I’m serious, when I’m stoned I can’t—“ he stopped to bite at his knuckle, containing another laughter fit— “I can’t speak shit to ghosts. So when Dad asks what kind of conversations I’m having with these dead people, I just make shit up.” Five gave him a look of disbelief, causing Klaus to laugh again, curling up into a ball and holding onto his stomach. 

“You can’t be serious,” Five said, but even he was amused. 

Klaus handed him the joint. Five took it, inhaling just a tiny bit, not wanting to get as high as his brother, but still wanting to feel some of the giddiness. 

“I’m dead serious,” Klaus answered. 

“He definitely knows you’re lying.” 

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Klaus said, propping himself up on his arm. 

Five rotated the joint in his fingers before handing it back to Klaus. 

“So, you really can’t see them when you’re stoned?” 

Klaus closed his eyes and nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Can’t see ‘em. Can’t conjure ‘em. Zip, zero, nada.” 

He sighed, dropping his head back down on the bed. 

“Which makes me completely useless to Dad.” 

Five didn’t know if it was the marijuana buzzing in his system, or the way Klaus became quiet, but he huffed, “Fuck what Dad thinks.” 

It felt wrong to say, both exhilarating and terrifying because he believed the entire mansion was wired, and that Reginald Hargreeves was secretly spying on them. It was a theory though. He hadn’t been able to prove it yet. 

Klaus raised his brow, turning his head to look at Five. 

“Five-O, I think the weed is actually making you less of an angsty geek. I’d go so far to say you’re kind of cool.” 

Five scoffed, shaking his head, trying to dissuade the small smile on his face. 

“Shut up,” was the only rebuttal he gave. Together they smoked the joint down to a nub, Klaus inhaling most of it while talking Five’s ears off. He remembered the setting sun disappearing behind the buildings, and how the room’s shadows turned blue. How they sneaked into the kitchen to munch on anything they could get their hands on, Five complaining that they had run out of peanut butter, and Klaus discovering they had an entire bag of marshmallows. He stuck them with a fork and began roasting them over the stovetop’s open flame. 

He remembered one by one his siblings coming into the kitchen, joining them at the stove to roast marshmallows. Then quietly, from the dark, Vanya piped up, asking if she could join them. 

“We’ve run out of marshmallows,” Allison answered. 

“Oh,” Vanya said. She hovered for a moment, before stepping out of the room, disappearing into the dark once more. 

Five took a gulp of the beer, his feet dragging along the sidewalk towards the motel. He shivered, frowning at the memory. 

That happened a week before he time-traveled. He could still see the way Vanya’s eyes looked at the ground, her hands clasped in front of her as she turned and shuffled away, barely noticed. 

Five swallowed, blinking against the sleeplessness in his eyes. 

He had only walked for ten minutes, the neon sign of the motel coming closer with each step he took, when he felt the painkillers kick in. The lights softened, and the ground swayed, like he was walking in a trance, or a dream. He took another gulp of the beer, feeling his heart beat in his ears. Walking along the sidewalk, through the night, he was overcome with the image of his adolescence: walking through the corridor in the mansion, hearing the violin music flow, turning the corner to see her— 

“Oh, shit,” Five mumbled, before his vision blurred into darkness. He stumbled forward, collapsing to the ground. 

——————————— 

_He was my sole confidant._

Up to this point, Five had been reading nonstop, quickly going through page after page. His family’s secrets had been revealed, one after the other. Some he already knew, some he had no idea. He slowed and read each word deliberately: my sole confidant. 

Five lowered the book, staring at the remnants of the apocalypse around him. The sun had disappeared below the horizon, causing dark blue twilight to settle over the world. Up above, the sliver of a crescent moon shone its faint light. He started shivering, not just from the cold, but because some sort of urgency was coming over his entire being. 

His stomach turned, his heart beat fast. He yanked the wool cap from his head. The book fell from his hands, and he grasped at the back of his head, a tremor causing his body to shake. 

He stood up, began pacing. He argued silently to himself before he argued aloud, then he cursed aloud, then laughed, one hand on his hip, the other hand pointing as though he were arguing with someone, even though no one was there. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Five shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it among the rubble, before rolling his shoulders and balling his hands into fists. 

He hadn’t done a spatial jump since he’d been stranded in this post-apocalyptic nightmare. He was too scared to attempt it, lest something went wrong. Fear had plagued him— but now something else was stirring. He didn’t know what to call it, but it was more painful than anything he could tolerate. 

Five blew out a gust of breath from his lungs, lowering his gaze. He shook out his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet to prepare himself. 

In that moment, in the cold, unforgiving loneliness of twilight, he made a split second decision not to jump through space, but time. 

The pages of Vanya’s book fluttered in the breeze as he took a running start, pleading himself to get back. He knew it wasn’t enough to just visualize— he needed the equation— but he threw caution to the wind. 

The smell of blueberry pancakes, the creak of the old stairs, Vanya’s sad eyes, now older, now trapped in a static photograph. 

That last moment of belligerent, childish spite as he ran out the mansion door. 

He screamed, pushing open time and space with reckless abandon, his nails digging into his palms hard. The rush enveloped him: time broke, the space around him bent, and he felt himself pulled through. 

Then, there was complete and total darkness. He gasped, hitting the ground hard, rolling a few times before coming to rest on his back. 

Five laid there, blinking. He was looking up at a full moon, its light undeniable, beautiful and bright. All around him was desert. The stars freckled the sky— his eyes went wide, taking in how many there were. He saw the milky way stretch across the sky, as though it had been made by a painter’s brushstroke. Five touched his face, feeling blood on his hands from where it had been cut. He dropped his hand to the dirt and gazed into the universe from where he lay on this tiny piece of the world. 

He had no idea where he was, or more importantly, what time he had landed in. It could be days. It could be years. He wondered if it even mattered at this point. 

‘ _He was my sole confidant_.’ 

Reading her book, written as a young woman. Reading her journal, the secret transcribed in her adolescence. 

Racing his siblings up and down the stairs. Fighting with them, forgiving them. Two sides of the same hand. Walking through the city streets, and realizing there truly was no one like them, no one with these strange powers, except him and his siblings. That they had to stick together, because the world would never understand it, not really. 

The danger of intercepting crime, the irritation when his siblings didn’t do things his way. Coming home, walking down that corridor, turning the corner into Vanya’s room. 

Vanya with her violin. Vanya, and her knack for listening. He’d sit in the chair at her desk, slunk down until his chin pressed against his chest, complaining about how dumb their siblings were, or how Reginald Hargreeves should be put on trial for crimes against humanity, or how he had been stuck doing the dishes for the third time that week, even though they were all supposed to take turns. 

And Vanya, usually so quiet, opening up to him, and telling him how she really felt. How she said maybe someday she would show him the violin compositions she had wrote, when they were ‘good’ enough to be shared. 

How alone she must have felt in that mansion of extraordinary people. 

The growing pains Five had felt for the past few days returned, as though it wasn’t enough to feel the memories of his childhood so deeply, so painfully and remorsefully. That last moment of spite as he ran from the mansion, thinking he really knew more than he did. Vanya shaking her head, pleading at him not to press any further. 

‘ _I’m so stupid, so goddamn stupid_ ’, he thought, and the ache in his arms and legs caused him to wince, his face twisting in pain before he let out a single fitful sob. An agonized sound in his throat croaked forth into the empty silence. 

Alone, surrounded by desert flatlands, the glittering lights of the stars breathing in and out in time to his lungs, the moon becoming a blurry orb of white light as tears filled his eyes. 

He cried, not only for himself, but for his family. For the powers which landed him in this world, and which made escape impossible. He cried until his breath ran ragged, the memories of that last day inflicting his mind over and over, like a broken record player he couldn’t lift the needle from. 

‘ _I told you so_ ’. 

——————————— 

It was an hour before dinner. Five was walking down the corridor, following the sound of the violin. He turned the corner, seeing Vanya at her bedroom window, the violin tucked under her chin, the bowstring poised elegantly in her hand. The light enveloped her in a golden glow. 

He rapped at the open door with his knuckles, causing Vanya to halt. She pulled the violin off her shoulder. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hey.” 

They were silent for a moment before Five lifted the book in his hands. 

“I finished ‘ _The Time Machine_ ’. Thanks for letting me borrow it.” 

He stepped into the room, holding the book out to her. 

Vanya took it, then sat on the bed. She asked him, “What did you think?” 

Five shrugged, distracted by the open journal laid on her desk, her neat cursive writing adorning the page. 

“It was fairly predictable.” 

Vanya’s smile fell in disappointment. Her dark eyelashes covered her eyes as she looked away. 

Five licked his lips, his brow creased as he continued, “But I liked the part about the giant butterflies.” 

Vanya nodded. 

“Me too.” 

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed around the room before returning to the journal. 

“Is that a music piece?” 

He motioned at the journal with his chin. 

Vanya’s eyebrows creased, her body going rigid. 

“No, that’s, um, more of a, personal journal—“ 

Five leaned in further to investigate, causing Vanya to stand up. 

He saw the word ‘kiss’, and immediately side-eyed her. A devious smile spread across his face. 

Vanya went to close the journal, but Five grabbed it, a childish deviousness coming over him as he hid the journal behind his back. 

“Five, give that back—“ 

Five took a step back, then teleported out of the room. 

He appeared on the second floor, overlooking the giant portrait of Hargreeves above the fireplace. Swiftly he opened the journal, turning to the page about the kiss. 

He wasn’t prone to childish schemes like this, but he was sure he and Vanya could laugh about this later— 

He stopped, the sly grin on his face dissipating. His brow creased and his mouth gaped in disbelief. 

Vanya’s footsteps dashed up the stairs. Five could barely tear his eyes away from the page as Vanya pointed at him, nearly out of breath. 

“Give that back to me, now.” 

“Are you serious?” he asked. 

Vanya stopped in her tracks. 

He held the journal out and shook it, exposing the page he had read. 

“Do you really mean this?” 

Vanya’s bottom lip trembled. She shook her head, her voice wavering. 

“You… you read it?” 

“Yes,” Five shot back, shaking. “Were you joking, or did you really mean what you wrote?” 

Vanya stared. She decided to feign ignorance. 

“About what?” she questioned. 

“About—“ Five stopped. He looked away, rubbing at his forehead. His face burned red. 

“The part about kissing,” he mumbled. 

He could hardly look at her. Vanya balled her fists at her sides, then responded with surprising anger. 

“I told you to give it back to me. You shouldn’t have read it.” 

She strode forward, intent on taking the journal from him. 

In a mixture of confusion and shock, Five pulled away, teleporting at the exact moment Vanya reached out and grabbed his hand. 

He sent both of them to the kitchen downstairs. Vanya lurched, clutching at her stomach, gasping for air. Five blinked at her, dumbstruck. 

She coughed, stammering, “I think I’m going to be sick.” 

Five stood there, his hands still raised in front of him as Vanya went to the sink and turned on the faucet. He was usually never at a loss for words, but this— 

“You want your first kiss to be…to be with—“ 

He couldn’t finish the sentence, instead joining her by the sink. He watched as she splashed water in her face, suddenly feeing bad for accidentally teleporting her like that. Bending through space like that wasn’t easy for anyone, save himself. He hesitated, his hands wavering, before he placed his hand on her back. 

“It’ll pass,” he consoled. 

Vanya turned the faucet off, shrugging his hand away. She yanked the journal from his hand and stormed off. 

Five touched the temples of his head, then stared blankly at the ground. 

_What the fuck is happening?_ he thought. 

He teleported next to her as she marched down the corridor to her room. Vanya startled, her eyes going wide. She began to walk faster. 

“You know, you can tell me anything,” he said to her. 

“Why should I?” she demanded. “You’ll just laugh at me, or tell the family.” 

She brushed her hair over her ear, glowering darkly. “ _Poor Vanya_ ,” she mocked. “She must be desperate since she has no powers. Plain old boring _Vanya_.” 

A rush of feelings came over him. He had never seen her so defensive, so bitter about the way she was ostracized from the family for lack of powers. It didn’t deter him from following her; it only made him more intrigued. He had never witnessed her open up like this in front of their other siblings. 

At the entryway of her bedroom he stopped, leaning against the door frame with his shoulder. 

Vanya shoved the journal under her mattress, then went to the door to slam it in his face. 

Five held up his hand, showing his palm. 

“I swear to you. I will not laugh. I’m not laughing now, and I won’t laugh if you explain it to me.” 

Vanya crossed her arms, biting at her bottom lip. A red blush dusted over her face. 

“Why are you so concerned about it?” 

Five took a deep breath, mirroring her as he crossed his arms. He looked at everything in the room except her, then his gaze landed on the ceiling, where the late evening sun was warm and gold. 

“Maybe,” he sighed, dropping his gaze to his feet, “Maybe I’ve thought about it too. Or I’d be willing to try. I don’t know.” 

He cursed the burning blush he felt rise over his face. It was the stupidest thing in the world, to feel this way about a simple kiss. 

Vanya uncrossed her arms, motioned for him to come in. Five shut the door. She sat on her bed, he sat on the floor. 

They talked for the better part of an hour, dancing around the topic, resuming a conversation like they normally would before the secret had been exposed. A sense of urgency hung in the air. Five glanced at the clock on the wall. The dinner bell would ring in less than seven minutes. 

“I have been writing compositions,” Vanya admitted. She looked to her hands, carefully folded in her lap. “But, I don’t want to share them. Not yet, anyways.” 

“I’d like to hear them,” Five said. His elbow was propped on the bed, his head nestled in the crook of his arm. He added, 

“Whenever you’re ready, that is.” 

Vanya smiled. 

She looked up at the clock. Her hands tensed. 

“What I wrote in the journal,” she began. She gulped. “I wrote that because I was wondering what a kiss would be like, and the first person I thought about—“ she stopped, her voice shaking. “You’re the person I trust most, so that’s why you came to mind first. It wasn’t supposed to be read by anyone. And I would never ask you—“ 

Five’s eyes widened as he looked away, scratching at the back of his head. He cleared his throat before speaking. 

“It’s going to sound stupid, and melodramatic on a level only Diego could pull off, but—“ 

Five sighed, relenting into the words, unable to articulate it as eloquently as he would like. 

“I think it would suck if I died on one of these insane missions without ever having a first kiss.” 

They stared at each other in silence before bursting into laughter. 

Five tried discouraging his smile by running his hand down his face. Vanya buried her bright-red face into her hands. 

“Jesus Christ,” Five mumbled through a chuckle. He lifted himself off the floor. “This whole family is one berry short of a fruitcake.” 

Vanya hummed her agreement, pursing her mouth to keep from smiling. 

He continued in jest, but his voice trembled. 

“I mean, how sad is that? Kissing someone because you’re afraid you’ll die before you get the chance to?” 

Five put his hands in his pockets as he turned to face her. He meant to say it was time for them to get going towards the dining room. He meant to extend his hand out to her, to help her stand from the bed, but when he saw her, the way the sunset glowed softly through the window curtains, how her small frame encapsulated the space around her, he halted. She was so careful, so unobtrusive, never asking for more than what she was given. He felt a stirring in his heart, a piece of the equation that finally solved the entire problem. 

He bent down, and kissed her gently on the lips. 

It was warmer than either of them expected. Softer, and somehow, honest in its touch. Just as quickly as he had done it, he pulled away. 

Five furrowed his brow. Vanya’s mouth parted in shock. 

In a rush, they both began babbling in a frenzy of words, Five turning to face the ceiling, Vanya standing up and apologizing a thousand ways, her voice moving through several different octaves. The embarrassment burned throughout their bodies as they tried to reconcile with what had just happened. Five wiped at his mouth with his jacket sleeve, Vanya licked her lips, scrunching her face in disbelief and concern. 

Five’s voice cracked as he exclaimed under his breath, “We can _not_ tell anyone we did that.” 

“Okay,” Vanya whispered. 

“Pinky swear.” 

He lifted his hand. Vanya wrapped her pinky finger around his and squeezed on it. 

The chime of the dinner bell rang. 

“Holy shit,” Five murmured under his breath as they left the room. “I can’t believe we did that.” 

“I can’t believe _you_ did that,” Vanya assuaged. “I only thought about it, you’re the one who actually _did_ it.” 

They clamored up the stairs. 

“Are you serious? Maybe I wouldn’t have done it if _you_ hadn’t put the idea in my head.” 

Together they climbed the stairs, shoulder to shoulder, arguing back and forth. 

——————————— 

Five opened his eyes to see the green neon light of the motel sign. 

It took him a minute to fully understand where he was, and why. Gathering his bearings, he realized he was laying in a bed of flowers next to the motel parking lot, and then he remembered taking two of Klaus’s painkillers. The 40oz of beer pressed heavily in his arms. A slow, creeping feeling of restlessness went up his legs. 

_Oh_ , he thought, the acrid taste of beer on his tongue. _Right._

It wasn’t like he forget this pubescent body was susceptible to black-outs while drinking, or bad reactions to questionably prescribed medication— no, he purposefully ignored the fact that this thirteen-year old body was useless when it came to alcohol, drugs, and sleep. 

Laying in the bed of flowers, surrounded by the soft petals of pansies and petunias, Five faced the night sky. The stars blurred, becoming brighter with each breath he took. The moon was only a thin curve of light, a waning crescent which would disappear by the week’s end. He lifted the beer to see how much he had drank. Half of the bottle was gone. 

The sky looked like it did that night when he was lost. After recklessly time traveling, Five journeyed back to the library all through the night, unsure if he was going in the right direction, but not entirely caring either. Eventually he returned. The morning sun was cresting over the horizon, casting the city ruins in pale light. He found Dolores and the wagon covered in a thick layer of dust, accumulated by any number of dust storms which had passed during the time he was gone. He went into the library, found Vanya’s book beneath the layer of dust, and lifted it from the ground. He shook the dust from it, then held it close to his chest, hugging it tight. In that moment, he realized that unless he could figure out a way to get home, he would be spending the rest of his life reading this book, the last reminder of his family. 

At the end of the world, he had cremated his brothers and sister. His hands bled with each funeral pyre he built, shards of wood cutting into his palms, scraping them raw as the heat of day blistered his skin beyond feeling. He couldn’t stand to be near the bodies as they burned, so when he lit the fires, he walked far away, watching the distant smoke rise into the yellowed sky. When it was over, Five gathered his family’s ashes into a black satchel, and tied it closed with a shoestring. 

Days went by, then months. Little by little, as time went on, he gradually released the ashes from the satchel. Piece by piece he let his sibling’s ashes go, releasing them into the roaming wind. 

The picture of Vanya on the back of the book was the last thing he had of her. 

How, bitterly, as the first year of solitude waned on, he developed growing pains, causing him to be taller. His voice became deeper, more gravelly, and he started to sprout facial hair. He used to shave it off with the edge of a knife, until the years waned on and he decided keeping up with appearances wasn’t worth it anymore. It was as though growing up had no meaning when there was no one to share it with. 

Five closed his eyes, drunk and delirious in the bed of flowers, when he heard a voice. 

“Five?” 

He opened his eyes to see Vanya standing over him. She was shivering slightly. That was interesting, he thought. He couldn’t tell if he was cold or not. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“Some people would call it a crisis. I call it a Tuesday night.” 

Vanya’s forehead was creased in concern, her eyes focused on him. 

“Are you drunk?” 

Five’s eyelids fluttered as he looked at her. He bit his tongue, then answered, “Yes.” 

Vanya extended her hand. He took it, and she helped him to his feet. 

He swayed for a moment, the beer bottle sloshing in his hand. Vanya gripped at his shoulders, steadying him. 

They walked towards the motel, weaving between parked cars, but Five halted, his eyes going wide as he lurched to the side. He chucked the contents of his stomach onto the hood of Reginald Hargreeves’s antique, and hijacked, 1960 Chrysler Imperial. 

Vanya grimaced, standing back as Five retched. 

“Yep, that’s—“ he coughed between vomiting, “—that’s going to ruin the paint job.” 

He stood up, tripping over his feet, slurring his words. 

“Sorry,” he said, wiping at the corner of his mouth. 

“No, I get it. Better to get it out of your system than let it linger.” 

They took a few slow steps towards the motel. The rain left a watery, reflective sheen on the parking lot, causing the neon lights to glow and fill the air around them. 

“What are you doing up?” he asked. 

“Went to use the bathroom. Realized you were gone, and thought I should check out the parking lot,” she answered. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Make sure nothing nefarious was happening.” 

Five chuckled. 

“That’s a five dollar word. Describes our family’s predicament well.” 

Vanya laughed, ducking her chin to her chest. 

“You could say that again.” 

Five paused, gesturing at two lawn chairs placed beside the motel’s swimming pool. 

“I’m going to sit outside for a minute. Get some fresh air.” 

He sat down, sinking heavily onto the plastic chair. 

“Is it alright if I join you?” she asked. 

Five nodded. Vanya took a seat beside him. Together they sat in silence, watching the calm ripples of the pool water, the light of the pool illuminating the night in sea-green. Moths gathered around the lone streetlight. Five unscrewed the cap and took a swig of beer. He offered it to Vanya. 

“It’s kind of late to be drinking,” she said. She took the beer in her hand, drinking some before handing it to him. 

“Yeah, well—“ 

Five shook his head. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Bad dream?” she asked. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. 

Five blinked, eyeing her, then the cigarettes. 

“No, it wasn’t a bad dream…where the hell did you get those?” He continued, his hand haphazardly waving at her, “Do you smoke?” 

“No…?” she said, although her voice was uncertain. “I might have swiped these from Sissy’s kitchen drawer before we left 1963.” 

She pulled a cigarette from the carton, placed it between her lips, and lit the end with the lighter. The smoke curled in the air as she exhaled. 

“It’s… sort of the last piece of memory I have of her,” she said quietly. “At night, we used to go out to the barn and smoke. We’d talk about anything. I liked those moments.” 

Five slid back in the chair, tilting his head a bit. The sound of raindrops could be heard dripping from the trees, rolling off the tires of the lone cars which drove by in the middle of this quiet night. The swimming pool made fractals of light shimmer along its tiled edges. 

Silently, Five held out his hand, and without asking what he wanted, Vanya passed the cigarette to him. He inhaled a drag of it, then coughed, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

The cigarette was passed back to Vanya, who looked at him with a mixture of concern and amusement. 

“God, the fuck?” he croaked. He took a swig of beer to wash the taste from his mouth. 

“It’s bad, I know,” Vanya admitted. She inhaled the cigarette. “I don’t plan on becoming a smoker. It’s just—“ 

She ran her thumb over the packet of cigarettes. 

“It reminds me of her.” 

They were quiet for a moment. 

“You really care about her, huh?” he asked. 

Vanya nodded. 

“Yeah, I, uh—“ she cleared her throat. “She taught me alot of things about myself. I can’t really explain it, but—“ she paused, unable to halt the emotion rising in her voice, “—it’s like she taught me to feel love again.” 

She took a drag off the cigarette. The smoke evaporated in the air. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank her for that.” 

Five’s gaze softened. 

“I think she knows,” he said. 

Vanya glanced at him, a smile on her lips. She seemed so tired, and yet, there was something new, a kind of energy that hadn’t been there when they were kids. Five honed in on it, tried to understand its source. 

It was music, he realized. A deep, thrumming sound coming from her very being. Being around Vanya at her best was like hearing your favorite song for the first time. 

Five filled his lungs with air, sinking further into the lawn chair, closing his eyes. 

“It’s just one of those nights?” Vanya questioned. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Trust me, I wish I could,” Five answered. 

“I used to have bad insomnia, from stress.” 

Five glanced at her through half-lidded eyes. 

“I know. It was in your book.” 

He rolled his head, his thoughts swimming, vision bleeding colors and swirling lights. 

“In your book, you wrote how you’d stay up all night, until you learned a trick. Would think about somewhere peaceful. Like a green meadow. Or sitting by the side of a lake at dawn. Sit there, and be alone with the stillness.” 

He swallowed, his jaw clenched. 

“Did that really work?” 

Vanya replied, “Yes. It did.” 

He wanted to ask, ‘ _How alone were you, in that house? How many times did you feel like you didn’t belong in your own family? How many times did you want to feel angry, but couldn’t because of the meds? Because of us?_ ’ 

His voice betrayed him, laced with strained emotion. 

“I can’t sleep because I’m having growing pains.” 

He stretched his legs out, gesturing at them as though that would solidify his statement. 

“Feels like I’m being stabbed. Or gnawed on by a feral muskrat.” 

“Shit, Five,” she said. The concern in her voice made him startle. 

“I could drive us to a store, buy painkillers—“ 

“Already did. Didn’t buy them though.” Five waved his hand towards the motel behind them. “I swiped two of Klaus’s questionable pills outta his coat.” 

Vanya gaped at him, but Five continued, his words slurring together, “I told you the truth. That grants me a ‘get-out-of-jail-free card’ from lecturing me on how stupid I am.” 

“Is the pain really that bad?” Vanya asked. 

Five stirred the beer in his hands. 

“No,” he admitted. “I just wanted to sleep.” 

He lifted the beer, stating, “Cheers”, before taking several gulps. Vanya looked all around them. 

“You know, if someone caught us, they’ll think you’re a delinquent drunk, and that I’m some bad mother letting her teenage son do whatever the hell he wants.” 

Five pulled the beer from his mouth and whistled. 

“I’ve been shot, stabbed, strangled, slandered… I think I deserve to relax with—“ he hiccuped, “—deserve to have beer. A beer. Yes.” He winced, his thoughts confused in this drunken state. “I could do without all this though.” He gestured at his body. “Especially a second time around.” 

Vanya questioned him with her gaze. 

“Puberty,” he clarified. “Going through puberty a second time. Wouldn’t recommend it.” 

He lifted his arm, resting his head in the palm of his hand. 

Vanya bit the side of her cheek. She offered the cigarette. Five took it, then handed her the beer. They swapped— Five took an intoxicating drag of the cigarette, the nicotine buzzing throughout his bloodstream, and Vanya sipped at the beer, feeling it collect heavily in the pit of her stomach. 

“If you want somebody to talk to about it, there’s always Diego, or Luther—“ 

“I don’t need advice,” Five interjected. “I’ve already done this before.” 

“Yeah, but—“ Vanya reached out, hesitant, but gentle as she placed her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do it alone this time.” 

They stared at each other before Five looked away to clear his throat, wiping at his eyes with his jacket sleeve. 

“I appreciate that.” 

They settled into silence, occasionally looking up at the stars, finding comfort in being so small compared to the vastness of the cosmos above them. Tomorrow their siblings would want to start making plans, they might even want to go separate ways, but for now, the two of them, number five and number seven, could let go of whatever was bound to happen. They passed the beer back and forth, Vanya feeling only a slight buzz, Five in a fugue state somewhere between dreaming and half-consciousness. 

He looked at the moon. The memory of all those lonely nights made him speak. 

“Diego wasn’t wrong. What he said earlier, about me being selfish. I’m not saying he was completely right, but he wasn’t wrong either.” 

Five considered the last gulp of beer in the bottle, the haziness of the lights, the gentle slosh of the pool water. How his stomach clenched, wanting to throw up but his mind told him not to. 

“I wanted to prove that smug bastard so _badly_ that I could do it. That I could time travel without his help.” 

He thrust the beer bottle out, gesturing at the darkness before them. He pursed his mouth, then sighed heavily. 

“I shouldn’t have run away like that. I shouldn’t have—“ he paused, balling his hand into a fist before letting go, “—I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry.” 

He leaned back in the chair. 

“Five.” 

He turned his head to peer at her. 

“I already forgave you a long time ago.” 

She turned, wiping at her eyes. The cigarette in her hands was nearly burned out. 

“Jesus, what is it with these late night confessionals,” she quipped, laughing. 

Five breathed out a laugh, sounding his agreement. 

“Beer and cigarettes. And Klaus’s painkillers. It’ll do that to you.” 

They chuckled, stifling their laughs with their hands. 

Feeling himself overcome with sleep, Five continued. He could tell her anything, he didn’t care. 

“You know, I meant it.” 

Vanya looked at him. 

“What I said, about your book. You exposing the family secrets like that. Took alot of guts.” 

Vanya exhaled shakily, started, “Look, I know, maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but he was my father, and I’m part of the family too—" 

Five smiled. 

"I’m not talking about whether it was right or wrong. It’s just—" 

He pursed his mouth, his jaw clenching, a sheen of emotion coming over his eyes. He pressed his palm into the plastic arm of the lawn chair. 

“After all this time, you kept our kiss a secret.” 

In the distance, they heard the night call of an owl, the passing of a car along the road, the distant roll of thunder from a storm miles away. 

“I made a promise not to tell, didn’t I?” she stated. 

Five nodded. He sunk into his chair, closed his eyes, and like a candle flame blown out, exhausted himself into a dark, dreamless sleep. 

——————————— 

Vanya remembered how, during a thunderstorm, all of the siblings would gravitate towards Luther’s room. The flash of lightening, followed by the boom of thunder, caused her to wake up, paralyzed by fear. She held onto her pillow as she tiptoed through the corridor. In the darkness, she saw the shadows of Five and Ben descend down the stairs. They followed her towards Luther’s room, sneaking in there to discover Allison, Klaus, and Diego already huddled together on his bed, underneath the covers as Luther gestured that it was okay for them to come in. Vanya, Ben, and Five stepped quietly into the room, squeezing onto the bed. 

She remembered how there wasn’t enough room on the bed for her, so she put her pillow on the floor, curled into a ball, and closed her eyes tight. She accepted the fact that there wasn’t space for her, but it was enough to at least be in the same room with her siblings. The chill of the hard floor made her shiver. 

She remembered jolting at another loud crash of thunder as Five stepped off the bed, sliding down to lay next to her on the floor. 

They were so young then— they couldn’t have been more than six years old. That was when she started to realize that her siblings were different from her; or perhaps, she was the one different from her siblings. 

That was before names, before Grace introduced the idea that they were something beyond the identity of their number. 

Five’s small hands were pressed close against his chest. 

“Don’t be scared Seven,” he whispered. “It’s only changes in the atmosphere.” 

His voice was so quiet then, a kind of innocence that hardened with age and time, before Hargreeves exploited his potential as a mathematical prodigy, capable not only of understanding space-time, but able to actually _bend_ space-time to his will. 

Before that, he was a little kid who was scared of thunderstorms just like Seven. A kid who felt himself low in the pecking order. 

Vanya closed her eyes, covering her ears when the thunder boomed. The rain hit the windowpane furiously. She heard her siblings gasp, cowering underneath the blankets. 

She curled tighter into a little ball, a frightened whimper in her throat, when she felt warmth touch her. She opened her eyes to see Five holding her hand. 

“It won’t last forever.” 

Vanya recalled this moment as she glanced over to see Five fast asleep in the lawn chair. 

She reached out, giving his shoulder a shake. Five’s eyes fluttered open. Vanya whispered to come inside, sleep in a real bed. That she can’t pick him up and carry him; she doesn’t have the strength. Five lifted himself on shaky legs, his eyes half-closed. The beer bottle rolled off his lap and onto the pavement with a clink. 

Clutching at his head, Five mumbled incoherently about retiring in the Florida Keys, veering off to the side and running into a pole as they walked towards the motel. Vanya sucked in a sharp breath, reaching out and taking hold of his shoulders to steer him in the right direction. 

Five leaned his head against her shoulder, her arm wrapped around him as they walked on. 

It felt nostalgic, but also not. They had missed out on nearly half of each other’s lives, but neither of them could shake their formative years of childhood. 

The memory of when he was five years old: he had caught a cold, and the sickness messed with his powers. Through bleary eyes and a runny nose, Five sneezed, accidentally teleporting himself onto the mansion roof. His family gathered in the courtyard, looking up at the small boy. Reginald demanded that he get himself down, and Grace fretted over his safety— but instead of being scared, he yelled at his siblings that he could see the whole city from up there. 

The memory of holding a violin for the first time made her feel like she had her own superpower— that the violin was an extension of herself, how music eradicated the fear and gave her a sense of purpose. 

A month after Five disappeared, Vanya entered his room for the first time. She had been unable to face the fact that he was gone until that moment. She sat on his bed, her hands in her lap, and looked all around her. The sunlight was earl grey behind cloudy skies. The knick-knacks he kept on the windowsill were already gathering a layer of dust. She sat there for a long time, and then she stood up to open his closet. She stared at the uniforms, hanging in a neat row, then pressed her face against the fabric and breathed in. She thought about all the things she was going to tell him when he got back from wherever he was; deciding that she would finally show him the violin composition she wrote. 

But a month passed, then two, then ten. An entire year passed, and she stopped going into his room. She realized she was forgetting what her brother looked like. What his laugh sounded like. 

She had never felt more alone than she did then. 

Walking through the rain-soaked parking lot, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, Vanya closed her eyes and told herself it was okay to release that loneliness. The rain started again, a light drizzle which was cool against their skin. 

The top of his head tickled her cheek. Vanya gave his shoulder a squeeze as they stepped under the motel awning. 

He was already a couple inches taller than her. 

She had never gotten the chance to see her brother grow up, and even though the circumstances were less than ideal for him, she was glad in a way that he was going to grow up again, surrounded by his family. 

“Can’t do it,” he mumbled. He rapped his knuckles against the door, swaying to and fro. “Too drunk.” 

“Do what?” Vanya asked. 

“Jump us through.” 

“Five, the door is unlocked.” 

He blinked, his eyes rolling once. 

“Oh.” 

Vanya opened the door, and together they stepped into the room. Five slipped out of his shoes as the door shut with a click. Vanya placed her jacket on the chair. 

Klaus and Allison were still asleep, and Klaus had sprawled himself diagonally across the bed, taking up all the space. Five glanced at Klaus and rolled his eyes. He avoided looking at the clock, lest it remind him that time never seemed to let up for the restless. Blindly he stumbled through the dark, causing Vanya to turn on the bedside lamp for a moment so he could see. The soft yellow glow filled the room. 

Five climbed into bed next to Allison, curled up close to her, and nestled his head into the crook of her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her arm. 

Allison woke up, rolling over to see the usually curmudgeon Five cuddled up to her, then gaped at Vanya in complete disbelief. She gestured at Five, mouthing the word, ‘ _What?_ ’ causing them both to give a small, stifled laugh. Vanya took off her own shoes, laying down on the bed so that Five was sandwiched between his two sisters. 

Vanya clicked the lamp off, and the room returned to darkness. 

The quiet patter of rain tapped against the window. After a moment, Five murmured in the dark, half-asleep, “You’ll always be my first kiss.” 

A stifled moment passed. Allison lifted her head. 

“What did he say?” 

“God, who knows? He took some of Klaus’s weird pills,” Vanya surmised. 

From the other bed they heard Klaus pipe up, his voice thick with sleep. 

“OH, those, yeah, they’ll make you say anything, like how, for instance, _my_ first kiss was with a certain Ben. Nice Ben, not this new goth-wave jerk Ben we somehow time-fucked into existence.” 

Allison propped herself on her elbow, causing Five’s back to press against Vanya. 

“What the hell is going on? Do we need some sort of family intervention? Five, who was your first kiss? Vanya?” 

The bed creaked as Klaus gestured wildly in the dark. 

“Luther is next door Allison. Why don’t you go talk to him?" 

“Really? You really want to go there?” 

In the darkness Five hissed, “Can you two idiots shut up, _please_ , for all that is good in this world, Shut. Up.” 

Allison lowered herself back onto the bed. Klaus huffed, then pulled the covers over his head. 

Five sighed heavily, pressing his face close to the warmth of Allison’s back. Vanya turned on her side, situating her hand comfortably on his arm, the back of his head tickling her nose. 

He smelled like he did when they were young, except now there seemed to be a weight to him, a tiredness which wasn’t reserved for his adolescent body but for his soul. 

“Goodnight Five. Goodnight Allison,” she breathed, her voice a faint wisp in the room. 

“Goodnight Vanya,” Allison whispered. 

Five’s muffled voice followed, “‘Night Vanya.” 

He sighed, mumbling, “Thanks sis. I owe you one." 

Vanya peered over to ask him what he meant but saw that he was fast asleep, his breathing slow and calm. 

After a few moments, they heard an exasperate voice from the other bed, “And goodnight Klaus.” 

In unison, Vanya and Allison echoed back, “ _Goodnight Klaus._ ” 

From somewhere in his dreams, Five heard the sound of rain mingle with the strings of a violin— and somehow, within that dream, that suspension of time and space, he knew the song was coming from the sister asleep beside him.


End file.
